


Fundamental (But Maybe Not Universal) Truths

by Crosswired Processor (KageDanza)



Series: Detroit: Become A Little Better Every Day [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Coffee Is A Main Character, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Hank Will Actually Have A Heart Attack, I think I'm funny, Rated T For Hank's Filthy Mouth, TW: Brief Mention of Gavin Reed, connor is too good for this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageDanza/pseuds/Crosswired%20Processor
Summary: Hank's coffee machine is broken, and so is the city of Detroit. But there's a certain android living in his house that won't stop doing nice things for him and making his life better, so there's that.(Just a cute one-shot from Hank's POV that doubles as a bit of caffeine-worship)You don't need to have read the first fic in this series to understand this, but I do recommend checking it out!
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: Detroit: Become A Little Better Every Day [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733290
Comments: 24
Kudos: 104





	Fundamental (But Maybe Not Universal) Truths

A fundamental truth: there is only one thing that makes mornings worth living through after you reach a certain age, that makes the staggering fog in your head sharpen into thought and keeps you just alert enough to avoid murdering your coworkers, and it’s made of hot water and magic beans. It’s a bitter lover, a steady friend, and the backbone of any productive society. It’s coffee.

Lieutenant Hank Anderson knows this hallowed truth well, so when the water reservoir of his coffee maker starts leaking all over the counter and won’t work properly even after he covers the crack in the plastic with four layers of duct tape, he’s fucking pissed. 

“Goddamnit!” He smacks the top of the machine and thumps his fist against the counter as it shudders internally and spits out steam that smells like weak coffee and plastic.

Connor rushes in, looking panicked. “Is there something wrong?” he asks, but his eyes lock on the coffee maker, and he relaxes. “Oh.”

“Coffee machine broke,” Hank says, half shoving the thing to teach it a lesson.

The android nods and crosses the kitchen to inspect it, poking at the duct tape and opening the lid. “It’s an old model,” he says, drawing his eyebrows together in concentration. “There are several things wrong with it.”

Hank snorts. Same.

“I’ll try to fix it while you’re away at work,” Connor says, straightening up and grabbing some paper towels to clean the mess. 

Of course he will. “Don’t bother with it, Connor, I’ll just get a replacement.” Hank reaches to take the towels away and cleans the counters himself. “The thing’s been fucked up for months, I’ve just been too lazy to get rid of it.” He tosses the wad of wet napkins in the garbage can.

The kid’s light spins yellow for a second. “I’d like to try anyway,” he says, staring at the busted coffeemaker. 

“All right, knock yourself out,” Hank says, shrugging. “I’ll just use the one in the break room.” 

Connor is at the counter pulling the machine apart when he leaves for work. He’s lucky that the station isn’t all that far, because God knows he can’t focus on the road without caffeine in his bloodstream.

\--- [scene loading… please wait]---  
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There’s too much shit to do at work. He’s on anti-android crimes, and that’s enough as it is, but something about living through a revolution and being forced to lock down, evacuate, and then return to the city has made the human citizens all kinds of batshit. Who’d have thought. And that’s not to mention the shortage of personnel, his responsibilities as a lieutenant (who knew that his past achievements would come back to bite him in the ass), and the fact that he’s only just gotten used to showing up on time...

Yeah. He’s not a fan of today.

“Hey, Lieutenant!” Reed calls across the aisle from his desk like the stripper in the fucking cake that is his bad day. “That plastic prick still living with you?”

“What’s it to you, dickhead?” Hank asks without venom, not bothering to look up from the report he’s filing. Bastard doesn’t deserve the energy it takes.

Gavin laughs. “It is, isn’t it?” He leans back in his chair, turning it to face Hank. “How’s it feel to be housemates with the worst fucking android in Detroit, Anderson?”

Damn. Even Reed’s off his game this month. Hank can’t help but laugh. “You know something?” he asks, smirking at the man. “I think you’re running out of material to work with. Wanna try insulting someone else who’s not here, see if it sticks better?” 

All he gets is a scoff as the detective turns back to his work, apparently too sleep-deprived to give a rebuttal. Good riddance.

It’s insane how much paperwork ten minutes’ worth of action is, and he’s been stuck explaining for three hours about how some douchebag pulled a gun on an AK700 at a convenience store but didn’t shoot. Said it wasn’t worth his time to kill something that wasn’t even alive. What a dick. At least the android is pressing charges, unlike a certain, stubborn someone else that he knows. 

So the city has gone to shit, but there’s always coffee in the breakroom. It’s a well-known fact that members of law enforcement are fueled primarily by the stuff, and if robbed of their daily dosage will quickly fall apart. If Markus had wanted to bring the city to its knees with violence, he could’ve started with the coffee shops, and Hank would have respected and despised the move. 

He’s on his fifth cup by the time his shift is over.

\--- [scene loading… please wait]---  
\---[loading complete]---

Even though everything’s fucked, there are a few things that have changed in ways he doesn’t mind. One of those things is that when he goes home these days he gets to see plants lined up at the window as he drives up, waiting for him. He’s never been great with them, but there’s something to be said about the way that having more living things in the house makes it feel more like a home. 

There are probably about a dozen of them now, if more haven’t magically appeared while he’s been at work. He reminds himself to ask Connor exactly the number as he goes inside, shrugging off his jacket.

The android is waiting for him in the entryway. “I couldn’t fix the coffee machine,” he says, his LED yellow and his hands behind his back like a little kid waiting in the principal’s office, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Eh, figures.” Hank hangs up his jacket. “I told you it’d be better to just toss it.”

He heads to the kitchen for a beer (because who gives a shit if he’s predictable), and there it is.

“Connor.”

“Yes, Hank?”

“Tell me there’s not a brand new fucking coffee machine on my counter and I’m just losing it.” He runs his hands through his hair and rests them on his head, smiling.

Connor walks up next to him with a shit-eating grin, and says, “There’s not a brand new fucking coffee maker on your counter. You’re just losing it.” 

It’s beautiful. A new model, but not one of those modern art pieces with thirteen settings that hook up to your whole house and report to an FBI agent every time you take a piss. It’s simple, and nice, and he’s not going to cry.

Hank clears his throat. “It’s okay,” he says.

Connor practically bounces on his feet as he gives Hank the manual. “I couldn’t retrieve replacement parts for the old model, but now that I have credit in my account, I’m capable of making purchases,” he says.

Aw, shit. “You don’t need to spend your money on me, Connor.” Hank holds the manual loosely in his hand. “You know that, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. It’s a gift.” Connor shrugs. “Consider it a thank you for allowing me to live here, and for everything else you’ve done.” He ducks his head a little, and glances at the living room. “So how was work?” he asks abruptly.

On another day, maybe Hank have the energy to call the kid out on changing the subject, but for now he was grateful. He didn’t sign up for these feelings. “Eh, you know.” He grabs a beer and opens it. “Reed’s run out of insults for now, so that’s a plus, but you wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork I’ve been doing. I should get a fucking medal.”

“No calls?”

“One, but it didn’t turn out as bad as it could’ve. No one got hurt.” They make their way to the couch and Hank starts a movie. “You ever seen V for Vendetta?”

A fundamental (but maybe not universal) truth: there are only two things that make mornings worth living through after you reach a certain age, that make the staggering fog in your head sharpen into thought and keep you just alert enough to avoid murdering your coworkers. One of those things is coffee. The other is a prototype android that fills your house with plants and watches old movies with you and buys you a new coffeemaker when yours breaks even when he’s out of a job, even though you don’t deserve it.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this brought me pure joy, I'm not going to lie. I've been hella stressed out the past few days, so I needed to write something lighthearted. I hope you enjoyed this sappy little oneshot!
> 
> //I am accepting requests and prompts, so feel free to comment any story ideas you have, for this series or otherwise!


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